Heart of Steel: Book II of the Jonathan Pavel Series (2 page)

Chapter I

Singking, Solaria Prime, Solarian Republic

River Front District

September 20th 844 AE (
Sowing Eve
)

The threat of war had been looming over the Republic for months now. Ever since the New Helsinki incident, diplomatic notes had flown back and forth between the Republic and the Confederacy in a flurry. In the Confederacy, the reaction by rogue elements from within the government in supporting the New Helsinki insurrection of the now deceased Yaguard Swervijik, had touched off a crisis. Three Electors Governments had formed and dissolved, while new elections had to be held four times because no government could be formed. Finally, three months ago a coalition had formed around Louis Dupont leader of the National Front political party and a long time adversary of Solaria. Joining him in Government, was Girard Dufrane of the Right and Order Party as Minister of War, and Simon Kisane also of the National Front as First among Equals in the Council of Consuls. Dufrane, former Governor of Novi Toulouse, had been indicted as condoning the Colonial Fleet's actions. Simon Kisane was far worse. Not only did he applaud the Colonial breach of Solarian territory, but he continuously pontificated to anyone who would listen that it had been the
Solarians
who had detonated those nuclear weapons, not the rebels.  Solarian Citizens on the Homeworld, the Colonies, and even the Provisionals on the Client Worlds had watched the holo feeds and scanned the news sheets all waiting for the Government’s response. Yesterday, the Premier had announced he would address a joint session of the Quorum of Delegates and the Senate on September 30th, after the holiday was over. Most still hoping for a peaceful resolution, thought this delay meant the Premier was going to continue the negotiations. The more astute, though, realized that it was likely the Premier’s mind was made up. If not to declare war, then to raise the temperature. War might very well come, and if it did the Citizens of the Republic would stand by their nation. Every Solarian citizen performed their annual military service, and everyone had at least some idea of what a full scale war meant many having lived through the 3rd Dominion War a generation ago, and witnessing many clashes on the client worlds since. There were the eager youths anxious for their chance at glory, the veterans wary of renewed conflict, and those who wanted peace. Despite these varied opinions, which were common in any society, the New Helsinki incident and the Premier’s handling of it had galvanized the public to unite. Thousands had died on New Helsinki, and a Solarian Navy ship had been fired upon. Someone must be held accountable. Whether that would be a few individuals in the Colonial Confederacy government or the entire nation, was the only question yet to be determined.  Now though, wasn't a time to dwell on the horrors the future might bring. It was the holidays and one of the most important on Solaria’s calendar. The Festival of First Planting was officially meant to commemorate the sowing of the first Terra crops in Solarian soil, and over time it had evolved into a national day celebrating life, fertility, and the human experience. The Festival came in two parts -Sowing Eve, which was frequently compared to Mardi Gras or Carnival of Old Earth, and the Planting Day,  which was a day of solemn reflection, usually because half the planet was sleeping off their hangovers. Most religions within the Republic had added Planting Day to their calendar as a time to ask for good fortune for the coming year. This year, the events of Sowing Eve were a bit more raucous than usual. The threat of war was looming over the nation. As such, the unspoken theme of this year's celebrations  was to  eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we may be at war.

Across Singking the streets were flooded with revelers, many in garish costumes or noticeable by their lack of clothing. Many wore heavily painted masks to hide their faces. Parades full of colorful floats wound their way through the city streets on pre-approved routes. Despite the revelry, Solarians couldn't totally abandon their natural affinity for orderliness. Despite a spike in charges of common assaults, drunk and disorderlies, and general hooliganism, the Metropolitan Police commonly noted that crime actually seemed lower on Sowing Eve as most people focused on having some good fun. Still, the one problem that had been given up on years ago was how to manage the traffic. 

“Hey clear the road!!!” yelled Commander Nathan Gopal, XO of the RSNS
Minerva
out the window of the three wheel inter-module car.  As he swerved around a gang of teenagers who were having a chicken race down the center of the street, their topless girlfriends giggling merrily as they bounced on their shoulders.

“Steady as she goes commander,” said Lt. Captain William Trendale, Commanding Officer of the RSNS
Cronus
taking a swig from his hip flask.

“Aye, aye sir,” Gopal responded steering around a gang of spacers giving an impromptu rendition of “
The Girl from Al-Bakar.”

“Really Nathan you are the worst driver,” called Zeta Chu, Gopal’s girlfriend for these last four months.

“I know, but you didn't agree to go out with me for my driving skills,” Nathan said with a grin.

“No,” Zeta replied sighing dramatically, “It was all those fancy medals on your chest. Had I know your lack of skill with motor vehicles, no doubt I would have forbid you from driving my car.”

“I said I was sorry,” Gopal replied.

Zeta leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“Tell it to the mechanic dear.” Looking at William, “Why did we let him drive tonight?”

“Three reasons. One, this is a rental.  Two, it takes a madman to get anywhere on time or close to it on Sowing Eve, and three, we’ve both been drinking heavily and he slightly less so.”

“Oh right,” Zeta said giggling.

The inter-module zigged and zagged around obstacles other vehicles and celebrating crowds until Nathan finally brought it to a stop in front of the address they had been given. It was a narrow, three story brick house with a heavy, wooden sign that said ‘Blue Moon’ hanging over its front entryway. Just outside the door, a group of people milled about while inside the parlour there seemed to be all sorts of lavish and scandalous things happening.

“Uh, your friend lives here?” Zeta asked her eyes wide.

A girl who could only be described as a brown haired, brown eyed beauty in the absolute minimum of clothing leaned over the car’s side.

“Hello spacer!” She said cheerily. “Care for a tumble? We’ve got a discount for groups.”

Zeta blushed, Nathan laughed, and William smiled before replying, “No thank you madam. We’re here to collect Lt. Captain Pavel for a prior engagement.”

The girl’s eyes lit up, “Oh you're Johnny’s friends. I’ll fetch him.” She turned and yelled back toward the door where people milled, mixed and drank.

“Hey, Natasha tell Johnny his friends are here,” she bellowed.

Not two minutes later a short, broad shouldered man also in a white navy dress uniform stumbled out of the front door flask in hand.

“Ah, Commander Gopal, Elcap Trendale good to see you,” Pavel saluted..

“Skipper,” Will and Nathan replied in unison returning Jonathan's salute. Technically skipper was the informal term for a ship's CO, but it was also navy shorthand for former subordinates to refer to officers under whom they’d served, and who they held in high regard. The medals on Jonathan Pavel’s chest were testament to that respect.  Like his two former subordinates, Jonathan had the standard fruit salad -the Good Conduct Ribbon, the Meritorious Service Ribbon, Humanitarian Service Ribbon, and Combat badge, although Jonathan's bore two batons noting he’d twice been on a ship that had fired its guns in anger. Unique to Jonathan's display was the Legion of Honor. This Red Badge signified he’d been wounded in combat, and the Navy Cross given for valour extraordinary. Also present were the foreign awards - The Star of Valour, and Helsinki Medal of Bravery given to Jonathan by the people and parliament of the New Helsinki system. Climbing into the cab, Jonathan didn't look like a man who you’d expect to be so well decorated. He had obviously started the evening early as demonstrated by taking a swig of the flask he had been carrying as soon as he sat down. He didn’t seem interested in slowing down.

“Shall we be off ommander!” Jonathan cried from the back.

“Aye aye sir,” Nathan Gopal hit the foot pedal jarring the inter-module tiny engine to life and away they sped.

Turing to Zeta, Jonathan doffed his cap and offered his flask, “Good evening my dear. Might I inquire as to which of these two scoundrels you are attached.”

Zeta smiled, “I’m with the one trying to kill us all,” she said rather loudly.

“I heard that,” Nathan replied as he slowed to swerve past a traffic collision between an irate trinket vendor and an expensive looking sports car.  A single, red and white uniformed Met was trying to keep the sports car driver and vendor separated, but was failing. The gathering crowd were placing bets on the outcome of the fight.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance then,” Jonathan said offering his flask which Zeta accepted. “How are you in the  dear commander's company?”

Zeta took a swig from the flask before replying then coughed and spluttered.  William Trendale patted her on the back.

“By Allah, that's strong!  What's in this?” Zeta asked red faced.

Jonathan smiled, “Kubaka Peach Schnapps. With everyone thinking war is imminent, they're practically giving away anything imported from the Confederacy so they can switch to different sources.  This was a gift from my landlady for seeing
O Delay O Delay
earlier today.”

“Sorry we missed the show,” William said. “Couldn't get a lift down from
Macran
till 1700. Then it was straight here on the jump jet, and thanks be Zeta was waiting for us at Tribune with this.”

Jonathan waved his hand, “No apologies needed. It was a fine show, but at least you're still in space, and not drydocked like I am.”

Since the New Helsinki incident,
Titan
Jonathan's ship and Trendale and Gopal's old posting had been sitting at anchor near
Macran
awaiting a slip, so she could undergo extensive repairs. However, the threat of war with the Confederacy meant that ships with higher priority and less extensive repairs were receiving berth space. As a result,
Titan
rode silently at grav anchor in the orbit of Zhong, while her crew and officers were reassigned all save her Captain. Jonathan had languished in bureaucratic limbo since receiving medical clearance to return to active duty. As he was technically captain of a ship, which was slated for repairs, he was on half pay groundside until the repairs were complete.  Unfortunately, 
Titan
was continuously bumped down the priority list and those repairs had never started. No one was even sure if
Titan
was worth saving. A full survey wouldn’t be completed until she could be brought into dry-dock, and
Macran’s
dock yards were full of ships like
Cronus
and
Minerva
who were undergoing a final refit before being deployed to the frontier, where they would be needed if or rather when war came. So Jonathan was stuck. He’d tried to unstick himself by begging the Office of Personnel to reassign him.  He was even willing to accept being bumped back to commander so he could take a XO slot, but two factors conspired against Jonathan. One,
Titan
had never finished even one full deployment under Jonathan's command when Navy rules stipulated he should have finished at least three tours on her before changing ships. That fact combined with Jonathan's date of rank put him behind every other Lieutenant Captain in the Navy. Additionally, there were some who blamed Jonathan for the entire New Helsinki incident. That, admittedly tiny yet vocal group, was led by one Senator Eugene Halman a senior Conservative from the Halman Estate, who was convinced Jonathan was directly responsible for the death of his beloved nephew Lt. Marcus Halman
Titan’s
navigation officer. In addition to bureaucratic rules and grudge bearing politicians, the other reason some officers did not want Jonathan in a command position was he was developing a reputation for being bad luck. His first XO posting had ended with him launching an accidental mutiny to save the ship from a fire, and his first command had ended with him in the most brutal naval action since the end of the Third Dominion war. In both cases, half his crew had wound up dead or wounded. So the rumors had begun to circulate that Jonathan Pavel was cursed.

Jonathan took another swig of his flask as the inter-module sped through the city, zigging and zagging out of River Front with its low slung bars and bordellos, and into the Capital Quarter, which was defined by the marble edifice of Government offices and the sleek glass and steel of private holdings. The Capital Quarter was so called because it was the area surrounding the great domed structure that was the Capital itself, where the Solarian legislature had set up shop following the end of Military Rule. Other than the law courts, most of this area was given over to the offices of legislatures, members of the press, trade associations, workers councils, and political consultants of all types. It was also an area noted for its grand parks. Jonathan leaned forward and tapped Nathan on the shoulder.